


Spirit Animals

by Woodspurge (banquos_ghost)



Category: The Libertines
Genre: Gen, very mild occultism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:40:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23200342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/banquos_ghost/pseuds/Woodspurge
Summary: Many years after an encounter with a Shaman, Peter tries to psychically contact Carl.
Relationships: Carl Barat/Pete Doherty
Comments: 6
Kudos: 44
Collections: Peter and Carl fics to lift our spirits during self-isolation





	Spirit Animals

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Libertines Quarantine fic collection. A very lose interpretation of the prompt 'the boys communicating by unorthodox methods instead of talking face to face like normal people. Interviews, scribbled notes, their telegram letters, or a mixture/something wilder' I went for 'something wilder' and it kind of took on a life of its own.  
> Argh, never written about real people before. It's hard! Please be gentle ;)

It was no use, it wasn’t going to work, and even if it did, could Peter trust himself not to have imagined the whole thing? Years ago, a Shaman had told Carl and Peter that they were bound together, their souls linked. Now Peter thought it was time to test that theory.  
***  
  
Mixing in the circles that they did, the Shaman hadn’t seemed so odd. Peter couldn’t remember where or when exactly that they had met him. He and Carl seemed to attract the unconventional. After a long afternoon spun out in some pub somewhere, during which Peter became fascinated with the Shaman and his stories of occultism, the Shaman had suggested that he take both Peter and Carl on a shamanic journey to find their spirit animals. Peter had readily agreed, Carl had rolled his eyes, but in lieu of anything better to do had acquiesced. The Shaman had taken their address and appeared at their flat around noon the next day, all robed up and carrying a large backpack full of equipment. Peter danced attendance on the Shaman, offering him cups of tea, cigarettes, gingernut biscuits, all of which were politely declined. The Shaman suggested that they get down to business and asked them to clear a space on the cluttered floor, large enough for one of them to lie down. He had explained that they would take the journey in turns. Peter was desperate to go first. Carl grabbed a cushion from the sofa and passed it to Peter to rest his head on. Carl reflected on Peter’s profound ability to live within the moment, he was as eager as a toddler, his large brown eyes animated with excitement. Peter brought the ethereal heft of his body to the floor in a less than dignified manner, leading Carl to reflect, as he often did, how someone so tall could appear so charmingly fey. Ethereal heft- Carl rolled the oxymoronic phrase around his head again. He’d have to remember that, it was curiously apt for Peter. Carl wondered what the Shaman’s impressions of them were, not that he cared much but he didn’t want people thinking ill of Peter. Peter and his mannerisms may seem guileless, but Peter was fiercely intelligent and loyal. Carl felt more than a little protective of his friend.  
  
The Shaman had started his ritual now, shaking a maraca over Peter’s prone body, alternating with a bodhran. He spoke to Peter in an even tone, it was something akin to hypnosis, asking Peter to follow the Shaman through spiritual plains, and the Shaman asking Peter what he was seeing and feeling. Carl started to dread his turn, wanted to laugh at the preposterousness of it all, but with effort managed to hold the urge to guffaw at bay. By now things were well under way, Peter describing various landmarks he was viewing, trees and river, and finally a kitten. A kitten that appeared and spoke to Peter. The Shaman had helped him find his spiritual animal and it was a kitten! Carl didn’t feel surprise over this, he’d been thinking maybe something large, a kangaroo or such like. But a kitten? That was perfect and so Peter.  
  
The Shaman brought Peter back round from his trancelike state and asked if he had recollections of the session. Peter remembered the kitten that had spoken to him and was delighted with the outcome. ‘Your turn now Carlos!’ Peter patted the cushion in the now vacant position on the floor.  
  
Carl reluctantly took his place, and the Shaman proceeded with his maraca and bodhran. Carl’s eyes were firmly shut, but he was acutely aware of Peter’s gaze on him. Carl just wanted it to be over with, and he was tempted to make something up so that it would come to an end. His eyes caught a flash of movement, and there was a sense of an animal there and talking to him. It was all so strange, but so vivid. Like a dream, yet Carl felt in control of the situation. It was a huge leopard, and it was talking to him. The leopard told him that he needed to protect his friend Peter, for their souls were inextricably linked and their destiny shared. The Shaman brought Carl out of his trance and Carl moved back onto the sofa pondering the vision he had and still unsure if it was not just a product of an overwrought, sleep deprived mind. He told Peter he had seen a leopard but he didn’t tell him about anything that the leopard had said to him.  
  
Peter had tried to draw Carl out about it after the Shaman had gone but he just laughed and shook his unkempt locks. ‘Oh Pigman, please, it’s bollocks’, and he refused to discuss the matter any further, beer bottles had been opened, cigarettes smoked, business as usual.  
  
That was the last they had said on the matter. But it was something that Peter had never forgotten.  
  
  
***

Peter’s spirit animal had claimed that two souls linked as Peter’s and Carl’s were could never be separated in this world or the next. Huh. Shows what he knew. Peter had had no word from Carlos in days, months, years he wasn’t sure, hadn’t been keeping track, but it was a long time anyway. Too long.  
  
If he just lay back on this bed, shut his eyes, then maybe, just maybe he could commune with Carlos in some way. He thought of all the times they’d spent together, the days, the nights, the days blurred into nights. Peter pushed his head back further into the pillow, felt tenseness in his forehead. That wasn’t right, he needed to be relaxed, calm and let the spirits wash over him. He thought of Carlos’ smile, his frown, his mannerisms. Peter felt that it was too much to hope that he’d be trying to make contact at that moment. No harm in trying though, and then Peter almost jumped out of his skin as he thought he heard the familiar sound of Carl’s laugh.  
‘Carlos?’  
  
‘Oh Pigman, I told you it was bollocks’ his laugh again. Then nothing. Nothing. Peter lay there for what seemed like hours and could have been days, but no matter how hard he might try, there was nothing. No laugh and no Carl.


End file.
